


Occupational Hazard

by allofthepixels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Porn Star Dean Winchester, Tickling, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthepixels/pseuds/allofthepixels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting laid off, Cas got a job as a PA at his brother's production company — he just didn't know that it was a niche fetish porn company. Woops. </p><p>Secondhand embarrassment and teasing ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laugh-track

Castiel never really put too much thought into Gabe’s business — and, to be perfectly honest, the two AVN awards displayed proudly in his study made it pretty damn clear that he didn’t really want to know the details. Unfortunately, after three months of unemployment that totally decimated his savings, it became clear that he needed to finally take his brother up on the offer he’d been making since he’d first been terminated.

“Cassie, it’s easy work that’ll give you plenty of time to finish that book of yours,” he’d sang into Cas’ answering machine in between his excitement about the “sexy Novak dynasty” they’d be starting. Cas is sure he would’ve been more receptive and maybe even gracious if he hadn’t only been escorted out of his old office just hours before.

“And the guys are really hot. Like really, really hot. Just think about it.”

Luckily, Gabe didn’t make it too painful when Cas (finally) opted to reply. (He didn’t even make a stink about it being over text.) He cheerfully listed off the dates of the shoots over the next week — ending with a string of gratuitous exclamation points —and told Cas he’d mostly be responsible for providing for the talent, assisting the crew and “maybe mopping up sweat or other fluids ;)”

 **Cas:** Fine. I’ll be there.  
**Cas** : And never send me a winky face again.

 **Gabe** : Happy to have you aboard, little bro. #NovakDynasty ;) ;) ;)

He tried his best not to regret his choice.

————

Cas didn’t have to be on set until the second half of the day-long shoot, so he hovered at the coffee shop around the corner, curling up with his laptop early that morning to try and shake his nerves with a few too many shots of espresso. He was thinking that maybe he’d get some work done on his manuscript once he settled in. Maybe.

(That tiny shred of optimism from early this morning that told him he might get something accomplished died as soon as his brain reminded him that he’d be on a porn set for the rest of the afternoon.)

He didn’t want to ask what he’d be walking in on, but for the sake of his quick-to-blush face, he certainly hoped it wasn’t anything too over-the-top. Knowing Gabe it could be a knife-play orgy in a pile of glitter — not that Cas was personally against any of those things when it involved consenting adults having a good time and earning a living — but all he needed was to come into a new job (where his brother was likely somewhere within earshot) and look like some anxious, blushing prude. And what if —

“Uh, excuse me,” a low voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you Castiel?”

“Huh? Wha – I am? Yes?” Cas pulled out his headphones and almost knocked over his laptop when he saw sleepy green eyes and freckles and 6-ft-something of sexy in front of him. He wore a beanie and some loose-fitting sweatpants that hung low on his hips and Cas wanted to die because talking to attractive people in public was not a skill he possessed and he might be staring.

“They’ve been calling you for, like, five minutes, dude,” he gestured to the counter where the frustrated blonde girl was most likely prepping to throw the mug at his face.

“Oh. Erm. Uh, Thank you,” Cas felt his cheeks heating up as he scurried over to pick up his cup, tripping over two chairs and bumping three separate tables on his way. Drink in hand, he tried to be a bit more graceful, ducking his head past the handsome stranger and shoving his headphones back in to avoid saying or doing something that would embarrass him further.

When Cas looked up from the NPR homepage he was intensely studying (to make it look like he was in raptures over foreign affairs instead of replaying every awkward thing he’d done in the last 45 seconds) beautiful beanie guy was gone. Thank god.

————

Stepping out of the elevator on to the fourth floor of the clean office loft, newly-printed ID card in hand, Cas felt slightly less nervous. He had tasks to accomplish, crew members to shake hands with and a clock-out time of 5pm. If he compartmentalized it all, he’d get through day one in one piece. He hoped.  
As he rounded the corner toward the room the too-smiley receptionist directed him to, he heard a scream. Followed by a string of curses. And some deep laughter.

“Jeesus fuuhuhcking chrihihist. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” the voice gasped. “I hate you so muhuhuch.”

Cas ducked through the open door and took in the scene: A shirtless guy laughing his head off, two muscular arms strapped up over his his head, a sleeping mask over his eyes, feet strapped down into padded stocks and another man going at them with a small hairbrush.

“What’s a’matter? Too much?” the other man taunted and that seemed to make the tied down guy squirm even more.

“Victor, I am going to – Fuhuhuhck,” his threat was interrupted when a woman walked into the frame and scribbled some devastatingly well-manicured nails into his underarms. “Bella! yoo-hoo bihihitch!”

He flung his head back against the back of the chair, shaking side to side with uncontrollable laughter.

“New PA?” Cas’s was interrupted by the hushed voice of a small red-head, who took in his slack-jawed expression with a knowing smile.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, Gabe just told us to look out for you. The ‘little bro with the dopey puppy-dog face,’” she smiled. “I’m Charlie. I’m the production manager today.”

“Castiel,” Cas smiled, happy that the first person he met seemed (at least sort of) normal. “So, uh, where am I supposed to be?”

“Mostly hanging around until we switch positions or angles or actors,” she smiled, watching the way Cas’ eyes glanced back to the action in front of the camera.

“Oh,” Cas replied, a little disappointed since this threw a wrench in his compartmentalizing plans and he worried he’d need more of a distraction now that he’s gotten a taste of the performance.

“Yeah, to be honest these kind of shoots are always low stress,” she sighed happily.

“These kind of shoots?”

“The tickling ones, dude,” she laughed. “Niche fetishes can be kind of hit or miss, but these ones just leave everyone in such a happy mood. Your brother’s a huge part of that, keeping the energy light and friendly and shit.”

“I had no idea,” Cas shrugged.”I didn’t even know this was a thing, if I’m going to be honest.”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie laughed, checking her watch and scribbling something down on her clipboard. “It’s a pretty common one. Sometimes we mix it up with some other stuff — sex toys or hand-jobs or whatever — but today’s all about the laughtrack.”

She got the attention of a man behind the camera who signaled to the guy — Victor — with a swirl of his finger that obviously meant “wrap it up.”

“Alright, alright,” Victor laughed, slowing his fingers as Bella pulled away hers.

“You’ve earned a break. I guess.”

The man kept breathing heavily between giggles, the residual smile still on his face until the camera guy yelled “cut.”

“Great job, guys,” Charlie called out, signaling for Cas to follow her. She picked up a water bottle and made her way over to the set and Cas wanted to faint at being in such close proximity to the sweaty, practically naked star.

Charlie pulled off the blindfold and gestured with the water bottle as another person — the PA about to clock-out, Cas assumed — undid the straps around his wrists and got him out of the stocks.

“Hey Deanie,” she smiled. “You hanging in there?”

It fucking figures that “Deanie” was beautiful green-eyed beanie boy from earlier, Cas though. Of fucking course he was.

The guy — Dean — took a deep swig of his water and Cas tried not to watch the way his neck muscles moved as he swallowed. He made a face at Charlie and shrugged. She nodded back.

“Vic’s a fucking sadist,” he said loud enough so that the other man heard him. “But you already knew that, Red.” His eyes travelled behind Charlie and he spotted Cas’, his forehead wrinkling ever-so-slightly in recognition. “Do I know you?”

“Duh. You’re cute coffee guy! Ca- Castiel!” Dean’s voice hitched up to sound like the frustrated barista from earlier. He seemed excited that he remembered his name from just hours ago and then looked at Charlie to initiate another one of those silent eye conversations. “Cute-Coffee-Guy-Castiel is – the _new model_?”

Cas’ cheeks had to be six hundred shades of red by now and he was grateful that Charlie was there to be a buffer this conversation. Fully-clothed Dean had him awkward and bumbling, but 2/3′s naked Dean calling him a model was something else entirely. _How the hell was he supposed to stay calm and professional?_

“Naw, he’s our new PA. I told you about him this morning. Gabe’s little brother?”  
  
Dean reached out to shake his hand — he did that thing where he covered both their shaking hands with one of his and held it for a beat too long and Cas could only focus on whether his palms were sweaty or not. (Of course they were.)

“The _not-so-little_ brother,” Dean’s voice was low and purposefully sexy and he _freaking winked_ at him and Cas was sure that he would actually melt into the floor. 

“Stop it, you’ll scare him,” Charlie went to jab at his side but Dean caught her wrist mid-air in a display of some crazy fast reflexes. “Aw. Too soon?” Dean nodded with a warning look before turning his attention back to his water.    
  
“Okay, so you’ve got at least five to walk around and pee unless you need more. aAnd then Cas is going to help you reset for the foot bits,” Dean made a face. “It could be worse! Gabe has you booked for an hour’s worth of tummy time next week.”  
  
“Your brother is a sick fuck,” Dean told Cas as he stood up, stretching his arms above his head. (Which made all of his muscles move in this beautifully fluid way and — _oh god_ , Cas was screwed.) “He’s the worst, but he’s the best,” he added cheerfully, clapping Cas on the shoulder before wandering away through the cameras and toward the hall.

“Don’t mind Dean,” Charlie said. “He’ll flirt with anything with a pulse.”  
  
Of course, he did. Cas couldn’t even hold an intelligent conversation with him, so how could _he_ warrant flirting?  
  
“Not that you _couldn’t_ be a model,” she said thoughtfully. “You do have that dreamy, terrified baby deer aesthetic going on.”  
  
“I’d really like this conversation to be over, please,” Cas shifted from side to side, tugging at his collar as the obvious blush flooded his cheeks.  
  
“Okay, okay! Don’t go to HR on me! I come in peace,” Charlie laughed. “And if it helps I’m hella fucking gay? I’d hate to make you feel awkward dude. We’re a safe space, I promise.”  
  
“I suppose that does help a little,” Cas smiled, trying not to lose his first friend at the new gig by coming off as stand-offish. “So, uh, what do I have to do to reset for the next scene?”  
  
“Oh that’s easy. You just have to get Dean all strapped in and oiled up,” Cas’ breath hitched (but he held back the choking sound that wanted to come out). He hoped Charlie didn’t notice. “Nothing like _that_! He’ll help you make sure it’s all comfortable and done right. He’s a pro.”  
  
“Damn straight I am,” Dean put an easy hand on Cas’ shoulder, sliding it up playfully to the side of his neck. Unlike Castiel, Dean was a casual toucher — he could tell already.   
  
“Let’s get this torture prep ready,” he smiled cheerfully and Cas wondered if he was hallucinating the burning feeling under Dean’s hand. 

Dean stepped back on to the chair/bench contraption and dutifully offered his wrists to Cas. _Oh god_.  
  
“So I’m supposed to—”  
  
“Don’t tell me _you_ haven’t tied a guy up before neither?” Dean teased, laughing a bit more as the tell-tale blush flooded Cas’ face. “ _Of course not_. Nice guy like you? First just strap my hands up there and clip ‘em in,” he pointed at a circular metal ring above his head on the chair, “then the legs and then I’ll talk you through the awful toe torture.”  
  
Cas wrapped the soft padded cuffs around Dean’s wrist as he directed, pausing when Dean insisted that he was “not gonna break, Cas” when he’d made them too loose.  
  
“Actually, I’m more likely to get banged up if they _do_ come loose,” Dean said. “So it’s better to just do it for real, you know?”  
  
“Makes sense, I guess,” Cas said (skeptically) as he clicked the rings together above Dean’s head, watching his arms tense as they checked how secure they were.  
  
“Not bad at all,”  Dean smiled. “Next you just wanna grab those straps — the velcro/padded ones? — yeah, good, and wrap them around right above the knees and the others under the elbows..”  
  
Cas followed Dean’s directions and apologized profusely when his fingers brushed the underside of his leg and made him yelp.  
  
“It’s fine, man,” Dean insisted. “Occupational hazard, or whatever.”  
  
“I’m supposed to just close this?” Cas gestured at the stocks, examining the side latch that looked like it’d lock Dean’s ankles in.  
  
“Yeah, first you get it closed,” Dean waited for Cas to follow along. “And then you see those little bits of bungee string? You just take each one and wrap them around a toe until they’re all pulled back.”  
  
“Why?” Cas wondered, making Dean laugh.  
  
“You’ve been watching them tickle torture me for, like, an hour and _this_ is the thing that you’re questioning?” He shook his head with a small smile. “Well, it makes it tickle a whole fucking lot, so there’s that. And it keeps me from wiggling away and kicking out the teeth of the ‘Ler.”  
  
“Does it hurt?” Cas noticed Dean’s body tense as he started wrapping the second toe.  
  
“N-not exactly,” his hands clenched into fists above his head, the parts of his torso that he could move started to wiggle, his teeth clenching just a little bit.  
  
“If I’m doing it wrong, tell me,” Cas insisted, pausing once his entire right foot was immobilized to figure out why Dean was flinching.   
  
“Seriously?” Dean regained his composure and shot him a look like “How do you not know why I’m like this?” 

And Cas felt like an idiot. _Duh_.  
   
“Oh, shit. Sorry Dean, I can try and—”

“It’s fine, Cas. Toes are a bad spot. Even the softest touch gets me there, it’s better to just do it fast. Besides I wouldn’t be here if I _really_ hated it,” he laughed easily, light from his chest, while Cas started in on the other foot.

“But maybe don’t play up the adorable, clueless newbie schtick,” he said between giggles. 

“Schtick?” Cas furrowed his eyebrows. “But, Dean, I actually don’t know wha-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m kidding. Untwist your panties, Cas,” Dean rolled his eyes. “You gotta learn to laugh if you’re gonna work here.”

“Okay,” he replied, trying his best to fight his own smile at Dean’s squirming as he finished up his toes. Because even he had to admit _, this was kind of fun._

Cas could feel Dean’s eyes watching him as he focused on his work — but part of him wondered if being too focused on his work was creepier in this setting? (He didn’t want to seem creepy on day one, for sure.) He looked up to find Dean’s eyes wandering up over his shoulder, growing comically wide. 

“Ain’t you looking pretty…” a thick accent that Cas couldn’t quite place drawled from behind him. 

“Aw fuck. Who let you in here?” Dean laughed, winking at Cas and giving his wrists a playful tug. 

Cas turned around to face a tall bear of a man. He was all round shoulders and whiskers and Cas had watched enough porn in his time to know that this guy fit _a very particular type._  

“Benny, Cas,” Dean gestured with his chin, making an attempt at a real introduction. “Cas, Benny.” 

“Nice to meet ya,” Benny shook his hand and it was firm (and his palms were so freaking soft.) “You a new one of Gabe’s boys?” 

“Uh, not exactly,” Cas rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly (“I thought that too!” Dean said at the same time, doubling the awkward.)

“Gabriel’s my brother,” Cas explained, not making eye-contact. “He’s given me a PA job while I try and pull my life back together. I’m _just_ a PA. ”

“Shame,” Benny shrugged with a smile and Cas again tried his best not to look like he wanted to melt into the floor, relieved that Benny had turned his attention back to Dean. 

“I hope Victor and Bella didn’t tire you out too much in round one, cher,” he brought a hand to rest on the top corner of the stocks and the other brushed casually through Dean’s hair. 

Cas couldn’t look away from Dean’s face. It held the strangest mix of emotions: suspicion, nervousness and, under that, something like giddy anticipation.

 “I know they’re not ones for sharing ‘less it’s with each other.” 

“Psh,” Dean scoffed. “Kid’s stuff. That was just a warm-up. I don’t tire out easily.” 

Cas felt weirdly as though he was missing something. Cameras weren’t rolling, but there was already a feeling like a game or a _something_ was already starting. Dean, who’d minutes before looked a little worse-for-wear and laughed-out, was giving off a very different vibe: Now he seemed ready for a challenge, his hands gripping his restraints like reigns. 

“You say that now,” one of Benny’s fingers, big with blunt nails, wandered down the sole of Dean’s left foot in short, blink-and-you’d-miss-it stroke. Dean hissed, gritting his teeth together and Cas noticed the way his foot tried and failed to curl up on itself.

“Nuh uh, no psychological fuckery playtime before we call action,” Charlie appeared and smacked Benny’s hand away (he feigned a guilty face but leveled a grin in Dean’s direction that even Cas could tell said “ _soon_ ”). “Your fans would hate to miss a minute of you two, so can you hold off for like five minutes?” 

“He started it,” Dean groaned. 

“I don’t believe for a minute that you didn’t egg him on,” Charlie rolled her eyes before handing a small bottle to Cas. “And good work, newbie. Now you just gotta oil him up.” she wiggled her fingers.

“I was hoping you’d forget,” Dean faux-grumbled. 

“Not _too_ much — since I think Benny’s gonna play around with it on camera today,” she looked at him for confirmation and he nodded. “Just enough to get a nice glow for opening shots.”

“Got it, nice glow,” Cas repeated. Still not 100% believing what he was getting paid to do.

“Benny, I need you to look over one more form for Gabe and confirm some blocking stuff. You can play later,” Charlie linked her arm through the bigger man’s and dragged him away, chattering as they went. 

“Is it really that bad?” Cas held up the oil bottle, forehead wrinkling at the thought of making Dean uncomfortable. “And how am I supposed to —” he gestured at Dean’s feet. 

“Some people do like a massage or whatever, but you just use your hands and rub it in to the feet and sometimes the chest if Charlie asks,” he explained, leaning forward and scratched his nose against his arm. “And s’not actually so bad, Cas. Just tickles a lot,” 

It dawned on Cas that Dean was really, really comfortable being tied up and vulnerable in a busy room. Cas couldn’t really fathom how he did it.

“Oh,” Cas said, saddling up by Dean’s feet and pouring some of the liquid in his hands. He rubbed his palms together to try and warm it up and was so focused on accomplishing the task that he didn’t realize the question had come out: “So do you like it?”

“Huh?” Dean flinched when Cas’ hand first touched his foot but he soon relaxed — and even sighed a little — when Cas proved he knew his way around a foot massage. 

“Being tickled. All this,” he shrugged. “Do you like it?”

Dean shot him a look — one eyebrow raised, a lip quirking up into a half smile — as if to say “what do _you_ think?”

“I mean,” Cas blushed and looked down, focusing gently on Dean’s heel, “I was just wondering if –” 

“Dude! It’s fine!” Dean laughed and then sighed as Cas’ hands did some gentle kneading at the ball of his foot that soothed a bit of discomfort he’d been feeling since his morning jog. “I _do_ like it actually. I mean, it hasn’t always been a _thing_ for me, but once I learned I was, uh, good at it — and especially once I started working with your brother — I’ve realized it’s something that I do enjoy.” 

“T-that’s good,” he stuttered when he looked up and made eye contact for a beat too long, pulling his hands back like he’d been burned. “Er, that you like your work that is…” 

“ _I_ think so,” Dean smiled and it was clear that he knew what he was doing to Cas. “Although, obviously, I like playing ‘Ler a lot more.”

His voice dropped painfully low and his eyes did _that thing_ that only hot people do where they obviously raked up and down and it made Cas (who tended to avoid eye contact, let alone obvious gawking) feel like _he_ was the vulnerable one in this bizarre, fucked up situation.

Cas had never been more grateful to hear the phrase “Let’s get to work!” as Charlie and Benny and three other crew members descending on them to prep their cameras and talk through the scene. He faded away into the background quickly — but could still feel Dean’s eyes on him for a few seconds as he stepped back behind the cameras. 


	2. Showtime.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas goes all voyeur and feels incredibly creepy watching Dean and Benny’s scene. But can you really blame him? Also Gabe arrives and like most brothers just knows things — which makes his first day slightly more awkward (if at all possible).

Cas watched uneasily from behind the clip-board Charlie had thrust into his hands just moments before as Benny did a slow, shark-like circle around Dean, purposefully drawing out the appraising looks and gentle almost touches to get a rise out of him (Judging by the slight quiver in his arms and that look in his eye, it was so working.) 

It wasn’t until hands made tentative contact at his ribs, with those tortured, soft giggles pouring out of Dean, that Cas realized his mouth was kind of open. He bit his lip and looked down at the papers in front of him, taking in the series of check-boxes and annotations that seemed like a whole lot of gibberish to him. The only thing he could make out was three lines of signatures: D-scribble,W-scribble (Dean, he assumed), B-scribble, L-scribble (Benny) and Gabe’s signature at the very bottom.

Benny’s hands crossed quickly down Dean’s torso, darting by Dean’s waist and lingering there for second, drawing lines across his flanks to earn the first yelp of the scene. At the sound, Cas jumped along with Dean.

“Naw-haw,” Dean hid his face behind his own arm, as if he was trying hard to hide the reaction. “I thohohoght this was s’posed to be a feeheet thing. Can’t keheep your hahands offa me?”

Even between giggles, Dean was trying to tease him.

“You’re saying you want me to...” Benny crooked his fingers and slowly brought them closer toward one exposed foot. 

“I dohohn’t, I mean,” Dean wiggled but it could only be noticed in the slight swing of his heels and the short twitches of his toes against the ties. His eyes screwed shut and his head hit the back of the chair with a thud. “Fuhuhuhuck.”

Cas felt his cheeks flaming, wondering if he could step out of the room without looking like an insane prude. He never thought of himself as someone who was particularly kinky, so discovering that his body really, really liked watching Dean get tickled, writhing around under Benny was, uh, illuminating, to say the least. 

Huh.

“Beg me,” Benny whispered (Cas could only hear it as it played through the monitor, but he felt his whole body lurch.) Dean’s face left the cover of his own shoulder, his eyes narrowed and he straightened out his spine as best as the cuffs would allow; He looked, if only for a minute, unimpressed. 

“I can hang right here,” those fingers inched back to Dean’s hips. “I can stay right here, Cher, until you tell me exactly how badly you want me to spend some time with your feet. Until you ask nice. ”

Cas didn’t want to look as mesmerized as he was, but he couldn’t look away from the shift in Dean’s face. That Something in his eyes —even though his mouth stayed decidedly closed in a show of defiance — changed. Cas shifted away from the monitor, hoping to keep his cool by not watching the camera trained on Dean’s face. 

Benny’s fingers went from the gentle, teasing motions to some deadly accurate looking pinching along his hips again that had Dean gritting his teeth and knocking his head back against the frame. He ducked his head low and Cas could tell he was whispering again and he only managed to casually step closer to the monitor to make out the ending. 

“—Yeah? It’s this spot that always gets ya. Isn’t it, sweetheart? This one’ll make you wish you’d just played nice to begin with huh?” Benny didn’t look like the type of guy who would coo at anything, but the gentle teasing was absolutely getting to Dean. 

“Just say the word...”

And Dean did. Eventually. There was something practiced about the way Benny took him apart — he didn’t hesitate to hover in certain areas and easily had him shifting and writhing and finally, yes, begging Benny to shift to the main event. 

Cas never thought there’d really be an art to tickling — hadn’t thought about it much at all, honestly. He assumed you just kinda poked and squeezed randomly until the other person laughed, but there was something methodical, almost sexy about the way Benny (and, okay, mostly Dean) were working, playing off one another and how, underneath the posturing and acting there was always a comfortable reassurance that they were actually enjoying themselves.

Benny waited a beat after Dean had let out a stream of pleading giggles (unintelligible if you weren’t listening super carefully) and started shifting down toward his feet, fiddling with the bottle of oil left by the base of the stocks and teasing the flat of his palm over the immobilized skin of Dean’s left foot. 

“Because someone was so stubborn, I don’t even know if I’ll have time for all the fun I had planned,” Benny sighed, bringing a blunt nail down the length of Dean’s foot, zig-zagging across the skin n a way that drew a gasp. 

“S’not my fault you-hoo lohost you’re touch, old mahan,” Dean tried his best to regain his bravado as more of that oil hit his skin. The giggles making it a bit difficult. 

“What I say about saying things you’ll regret, boy?” Benny launched one hand feverishly into Dean’s toes and pulled out some more of that frantic, screaming laughter as his other hand scraped along the center of the other foot.

Cas was so engrossed in the show — and, god, Dean’s face —that he didn’t hear anyone approach — let alone get close enough to jab two fingers under his rib making him jump (more out of surprise than anything else, he’d swear on his grave.)

“Cassie!” Gabe spoke quietly to avoid upsetting the action and gestured for Cas to follow. With one more look over his shoulder at the scene, he followed his brother out the door. 

Gabe gave him a just shy of too hard shoulder punch once they were in the hall. He was dressed in a clean white blazer that Cas thought looked straight out of Miami Vice, a pair of sunglasses pushing his hair back from his forehead. 

“How’s it going little bro?” He asked, chewing on a tooth pick (oddly departing from his usual lollypop). “First day on the job. First taste of showbiz. Are you loving it or are you loving it?”

“It’s a little overwhelming but both Charlie and Dean have both been incredibly kind and patient with me while I’m learning...”

“They’re the best. I only hire the best, Cas,” Gabe said, emphasizing that last bit in an obvious way. 

“I do appreciate you keeping me off the streets, Gabe,” Cas rolled his eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant, Cas,” Gabe ran a hand through his hair. “What I mean, darling baby bro, is that you are one of the most competent, compassionate and wonderful people I know and that any team and every team would be lucky to have you.”

Cas gave him a long-suffering look and Gabe shrugged, tabling this conversation for later. 

“So you’ve met Dean and I assume Benny at least for a little?” Cas nodded and a particularly loud howl sounded through the still-open door. “Good. Good. They’re some of my OG contracts. Love ‘em like they’re my own. And the tickling thing: It’s not weird for you?”

Cas thought back to his conversation with Dean and hoped his easy-to-blush cheeks wouldn’t betray him this time.

“I mean, I didn’t know this was, uh, a thing?” Cas shrugged. 

“Well it’s probably the tamest of the fetishes we dive into around here, so I figured it would be a good ice breaker to usher you out of the muggle world,” Gabe said thoughtfully, taking in Cas’ face. “Unless, you’re into it?”

“What?! N-no! I never even heard of it before and —” Cas blustered, looking anywhere but at his brother’s face and praying for this mortifying interaction to end. Somewhere behind him, Dean’s steady laughter had petered off into something silent, breathy — the tell-tale shifting of the stocks were the only indication that it was still going on.

“Or maybe it’s not even just the tickling but — shit! Which one is it? Deano or Benny?” Gabe was absolutely giddy, sniffing out the source of embarrassment like any older brother would. “As an employer I’m going to run you through our consent, harassment and inter-company dating policies — buuuut as a brother I’m dying to know who you’re so smitten with. Though, I think I have a guess. You’re a sucker for freckles. You’ve always been a sucker for freckles. How did I not guess this?! It makes so much sense—” 

“Gabe, I am seconds away from quitting. Seconds,” Cas knew that his answer was as good as a confirmation to his brother but couldn’t find it in him to care. “I swear to God —” 

“Cas!” Charlie called cheerfully from inside, a burl of red hair hanging through the doorway and blessedly interrupting this torturous exchange. “Clean up, Aisle Dean!”

“What? Huh?” Cas asked, petrified that Charlie had heard it all. 

“If you could help Benny get him untied and see if you can grab them both some Gatorade or a juice box or something? If they don’t need you after that you’re free to head out as long as Garth is good to sterilize the chairs. We can meet up tomorrow morning to debrief and talk more about future shifts, questions, concerns and emotional outbursts. That sound alright?” Charlie rattled off –seemingly oblivious to what she just walked in on —and Cas did his best to remember it all and not look as hopelessly confused as he was. “Thanks! You’re the best! Great job today!” She chirped, grabbing Gabe by the elbow and rambling on again at full-speed “Now let’s talk edits...” 

Cas turned back to the door and tried to push what Gabe had said out of his head. He had work to do.


	3. Behind The Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since everyone (including me) loves some gratuitous Dean and Benny, here’s a little parallel/prequel bit to that last chapter. — Now we get to follow Dean and Benny through the prep for a successful scene.

one day earlier…

“D’you need more coffee?” Benny was finishing rinsing off the last plate from their brunch and left it to soak in the sink, drying his hands on a nearby towel. They had a pretty good system: Dean cooks, Benny cleaned; Benny cooks, Dean cleaned. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Dean gestured to his half-full cup with a smile as he continued looking over the itemized form on the table, the plastic frame of his glasses (“only for reading, sometimes”) sitting low on his nose. 

“So for Thursday we’re booked to do an hour at the studio after your shoot with Victor and Bella,” Benny sat down and sorted through his own mess of papers. “You sure you okay bein’ a lee for two sessions in a row? We can always call Gabe about a reschedule. You know how he gets…” 

“Nothing I haven’t done before, man,” Dean shrugged, taking another sip. “I like getting full days off in between and, b’sides, I always sleep like a baby after a long day of shoots.”

“Wall’s pretty thin, ‘cher — your snores are somethin’ — but certainly not like a baby,” Benny teased. Dean tossed a crumpled up napkin at his head.

They’ve had an easy rapport since Gabe introduced them to one another in his office two years ago and easily fell into the pattern of co-workers turned friends. It went so well, in fact, that when relationship/life/lease troubles saw both of them on the hunt for new living situations, they easily fell into a comfy, platonic co-habitation as roomies and flirt-buddies. 

Theirs was a friendship of close proximity, cuddles and shared meal and chore duties and — though neither of them looked it and would deny it under pain of torture — they really clicked to the domesticity of it all. 

It also didn’t hurt that it was particularly easy for them to take care of all the extra paperwork and pre-shoot meetings Gabe required of his talent team (Since more than half of the legwork involved rolling out of bed and chatting on the couch.)

Basically, Gabe wanted all actors who worked together to confirm that they had a conversation before the shoot, negotiated all of their yes, no’s and maybe’s and were appropriately comfortable with one another before anyone was strapped down or touched or put anywhere near a camera. He was big on ensuring the work culture promoted consent, care and comfort above all else. 

His policies were eccentric (and maybe a bit more hands on than industry standard), sure, but ultimately incredibly effective for both the quality of their videos and the over-all well-being of all his employees. 

Dean was skeptical at first of the kumbaya atmosphere. Coming from a significantly less buddy-buddy company, he was used to paperwork and negotiations but it was never laid out in such a gentle way. 

He almost laughed when he first heard about Gabe’s mandatory one-on-one check-ins with all his talent (at least once a month, along with a perpetually open door policy). However, after sitting through his first two check-in meetings and watching his boss expertly mediate a situation between two actors who safe-worded during an emotionally challenging scene, Dean became a believer. This shit worked. 

Besides, it never hurt to make sure that no one ever felt neglected and that everyone could talk things out, debrief and adjust for future performances. Gabe was big on making sure everyone practiced self-care at all times — and Dean had to admit, it was smart.

“I think we covered that it was mostly supposed to be an upper body tease shifting to foot bit,” Benny clicked his favorite pen a few times, looking over his paper. “But let’s go through the list, just to be sure.”

“How are you feeling about restraints this time around?” 

“All clear for me. I also gave Vic and Bella the OK for them for one of the stock chairs if you want to just piggyback on that set-up.” 

“Sounds good. Toe ties alright? How ‘bout non-finger tools?” 

“Oof,” Dean made a face but laughed. “Ties are cool. And I’m fine with soft things. Toward the end of a long day I don’t think I could take a toothbrush or hair brush for too long — ‘specially since I already okay’d that last one with Victor.”

“Got it, softer it is,” Benny noted. “That’s more my speed anyway.Verbal teasing this time around?”

“Like you could even help yourself,” Dean rolled his eyes, checking off items in tandem with Benny. That earned him a swift jab to the side.

“Anything else you thinkin’ bout?” Dean asked. “You know how I love your good ideas.” 

“I think I’d like to try to get you to beg?” Benny said thoughtfully. “Would you be okay with that? I know you said you’d be tired, so we can table it, but it’s something that I think could be really interesting if we play it by ear.” 

“Oh, your fans would love that,” Dean laughed.

“Like yours wouldn’t?”

“Fair point. I’m fine with it, but let’s work out a non-verbal cue for wrapping it up without full-out safe-wording to be sure. Just ‘cuz it’s the end of the day.” 

“Of course, yeah,” Benny agreed. “We’ll confirm it with Gabe, but I’m thinking a closed fist for 10 seconds or more should do. That work for you?”

“Definitely, man,” Dean agreed, making note of that in the box below.

A copy of these sheets (signed by both Dean and Benny) would make their way to Gabe’s files to be approved before anyone set foot on set and they’d be kept on hand via Charlie’s clipboard on the day of. While it seemed bureaucratic and unsexy, the security of knowing that everyone was on the same page being comfortable and safe made everything so much easier to navigate — and, with all that taken care of, it let the giddy part of him — the part that totally loved his job — take over.


	4. Cut, Print, Moving Along.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one doesn’t end the way you think it will.

When Cas came back into the room, clutching two snack-sized Gatorades in one hand, Benny already had Dean loose and was doing some kind of rotating massage maneuver on his ankle. Shirtless, the skin of Dean’s chest was pink under the freckles and noticeably sweaty, his sweatpants (now back on) hanging low on his hips. His hair was disheveled in a way that was all sorts of sexy and Cas’ mouth felt dry watching him lean back, strangely feline like, against the bench with his eyes closed. 

“You missed the show, Cas,” Dean didn’t open his eyes when Cas approached but a smile was sneaking on to his face. “Shame.”

Cas shrugged because he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond, gesturing for Dean and Benny to take the small bottles from his hand. 

“Gabe needed to talk.” 

“Gabe always needs to talk,” Dean’s eyes finally met Cas’, and he could easily read all the warmth and affection the man had for his brother. “If he wasn’t such a perv, I think he’d be a shrink.” 

“Be nice,” Benny wiggled at Dean’s toe and Dean’s hand moved, lightening fast to wrap around his wrist. “Too soon? Okay. Sorry.”

“S’fine, Benny,” Dean smiled, extracting his leg from his friends’ hands and standing up to stretch, Benny watching him closely from right behind. Cas felt a bit deflated — sure, he got, uh, vibes before from the two of them and he really should’ve assumed that they were together. 

“Want me to drive home? You need a hot shower, a cold beer and a Star Wars marathon,” he said, rubbing the back of Dean’s shoulders gentle. Dean smiled, leaning in to the touch, whispering something Cas couldn’t hear.

Cas shuffled around to find the antibacterial wipes and cleaner Charlie had pointed out to him and started dutifully wiping down the stocks and the bench and the restraints. He could hear the buzz of Charlie and the camera guy going over what sounded like time codes, a few other assistants packing up in the corner and he wished they could be just a little louder to drown out the sound of his dumb little first-day-of-work crush fizzling out. 

“Cas,” he jumped at a gentle hand touching his shoulder (a thumb grazing weirdly at his neck, making him shiver.) 

Cas slid back a step, taking in a freshly-showered Dean who had already redressed in a clean t-shirt and his beanie again. 

“Dean,” Cas tossed the wipe and spray back on the table and wiped his hands on his jeans. 

“I was thinking, uh, wanna grab a cup of coffee or a beer? You know to celebrate your first day on the job and —”

“I’d like that,” Dean’s eyes softened, almost relieved? But Cas shook that thought away. “But I can’t.” 

He really didn’t want this little nagging crush to get any worse. Not today, Satan.

“Oh,” Dean’s hands went into his pockets. 

“I have a deadline coming up and have to do some work tonight,” Cas explained, which was only half a lie because his deadlines (save for the occasional freelance editing gig he’d pick up on the side) were self-imposed and self-policed as of late — but Dean didn’t need to know that part. “Raincheck?” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he smiled, but it was softer now. “See ya ‘round, Cas.”

“Take care, Dean,” Cas waved him off before going to grab his bag while cursing himself for being so terribly tactless: “Take care? Who the fuck says that? Am I a stay-at-home grandmother? Stupid, stupid.” 

Cas leaves the building quickly, shooting out a text to Gabe promising to meet for coffee before his next shift but explaining that he was too tired to debrief today. He gets home and showers off the day and absolutely does not to think about flushed skin under freckles. No sir. 

It was only seven and Cas actually didn’t have any work to do. He doubted he’d make much headway on his book either, but opted to do a few hours of staring blankly at his manuscript anyway. 

Halfway through that first hour, he’d clicked out to check his email: Several memes, forms and safe sex seminar-related messages from Gabe, something about his unemployment pay he’d been collecting before taking the job and another message from the literary agent he’d been in contact with since his last short story was published. He figured they could all wait until he was less dazed. 

With a sigh, he sat pretzel-style on his bed and flipped through his tabs and into Google incognito mode — and somehow, accidentally ended up searching his brother’s production company and accidentally landed on video playlist labeled “The Best Medicine.”

“Am I really doing this?” he said out loud to himself. The sound of the ceiling fan was the only reply. Well then. 

“Is this creepy?” Cas found a thumbnail that had a familiar smile in the center of the frame and clicked. “Oh god, this is creepy. I am creepy.”

He got half-way through a teasing exchange between Dean and beautiful dark-haired woman standing over his bound body. When her fingers were hovering dangerously over an exposed underarm, his Facebook notification pinged in the other window.

He glanced and saw a new friend request on Facebook from Dean W., with a smiling photo of Dean and a chubby medium-sized dog. 

Fuckin’ A.

Cas wanted to avoid falling into what would certainly be a long stalking wormhole and opted instead to accept the request and scroll down to one important detail before. With a sigh he closed one window and curled up on his side, falling sleep to words “Relationship Status: Single.”


	5. Turning Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finally sees the other side of Dean and no, he’s not sweating — you’re sweating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaaaaack. I feel like this chapter took fucking forever so I’m real glad to be rid of it, tbh. Take this. Bye. (Here’s hoping the other installments move smoother now.)

Cas wasn’t even supposed to be working today. He was stopping by Gabe’s office to see if he’d be free to read over his new pages (en route to try and bang out a few more at the coffee shop) and got caught in a longer conversation than planned. Most of it, truthfully, was Gabe grilling his younger brother about the “budding _friendship_ ” (emphasis his) with “Captain Kansas” (one of the endless supply of nicknames Gabe had for Dean). 

After a month of working as a PA, Cas and Dean had developed a friendly rapport (comfortable enough to half-disguise Cas’ massive, embarrassing crush), albeit with a lot of hard-to-read flirtation on Dean’s end. Still, they’ve never hung out outside of work and Cas couldn’t really imagine one-on-one conversations that weren’t interrupted by the need to get a sweat rag or a Gatorade or tie someone down.

Charlie managed to catch him in the hallway (when he _finally_ managed to get out and away) and asked him if he could go to the prop room and bring back a small toolbox (”The little red one on the bottom shelf to the left. You can’t miss it. Thanks,” she’d said in a single breath as she jogged down the hall.)

He was on his way upstairs regardless (and, truthfully, can never say “no” to anyone ever anyway) so he went and got the thing, walking into the room and quietly closing the door behind him when he realized the red “recording” light was on. 

Cas had been told countless times that he’d get used to entering a room with an ongoing soundtrack of screaming, squealing laughter. Hasn’t happened yet, but he’s sort of hopeful. 

He’d never worked on set with Kevin, but knew from chatting with the other PAs that he was most likely to throw an accidental punch or kick mid-scene (as shown by _a hell of a shiner_ Benny got during his second week of work.) He kinda understood why when he heard the sheer panic in the kid’s voice. 

It took Cas an extra half-second to recognize the ‘ler — until he gave a second and third take at the denim-clad ass and neatly-mussed hair. _Dean_. 

“You’re _the worst,”_ Kevin shifted in the same chair Dean had been in when they first met, ankles knocking against the stocks as Dean hovered over him.

“You and your sweet talk,” Dean said between timed jabs at his sides, Cas couldn’t see it but he heard the smile in his voice. “You’ll make me blush, darlin’.” 

It might’ve been a few seconds, minutes or half an eternity later, but Charlie was waving Cas out of his daze and urging him to pass along the red box in his hands to Dean, who’d turned back to look at him.

“Look Kev, my friend brought us some toys,” Dean tossed a wink in at Cas and he wasn’t convinced that his bones hadn’t melted. “Dontcha feel special?”

“I hate you, I hate him, I hate _everything_.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Dean laughed, taking the handle of the box and mouthing a “thank you” to Cas that the camera couldn’t see before slipping back into “character” (a version of him that seemed different — vastly different from the Dean in ‘lee mode — but again very much _Dean_ ). “Sure you don’t wanna join?” 

It was an ad-lib, an improv offer meant to tease Kevin even more (and, okay, probably Cas too) and Cas _knew_ it wasn’t cleared in their paperwork or anything other than another verbal taunt in Dean’s arsenal — but his face still went white as a corpse and his mouth went impossibly dry. 

“Suit yourself!” he mock shrugged and winked again (this time to the camera more than Cas). 

Charlie waved him back over to ask him a question about the schedule (something he knew the answer to, probably, but couldn’t focus enough to answer because everything felt 200% louder in his head.) Meanwhile, Dean had pried open the toolbox — making as many slow, creaking movements and noises as he could — and started playing a mocking game of show-and-tell. 

Three feathers, a blindfold and an electric toothbrush (turned on and off and on and off again) later and Cas wished he could see his reflection just to be sure that he wasn’t as red and blushy as he felt. 

He meant to leave, but felt awkward risking the shot by opening the door _again_  and also felt like he couldn’t move: Not while Dean was performing, shoulders looking broad as ever and somehow carrying himself like he was standing at his full height while crouching down at Kevin’s feet. 

Kevin was _still_ howling (in a way that sort of sounded like “no” if you really strained). It’d been a constant soundtrack since Dean “decided” (no doubt it was on their negotiation sheet) that the blindfold _and_ the toothbrush would be a great idea. Dean was gently running the latter across the trapped soles — up, down, up, left, right — asking softly, sounding maddeningly sincere: “Oh, shit, is that bad? Let me know if it gets _really_ bad. See where I’m going next? No?”

Again, Cas had never realized that this was a button he had — let alone one that could be pushed in j _ust this way —_  but here he is squirming where he stood watching Dean in action. Granted, he had similar conflicting feelings the first time he saw Dean in the chair but he had the sinking suspicion that the over-arching Dean theme played a real part in all of these feelings.

But while Cas thought it was objectively hot to watch a shirtless Dean squirm and smile before, this fully-clothed teasing model who managed to be tender and cruel and all these other sexy things at once was equally, if-not-more attractive. (And Cas was equally, if-not-more fucked than ever.) 

He watched Charlie do her typical “wrap it up” sign and geared up for Dean’s big finale: producing a second toothbrush and positioning each one over the devastatingly ticklish skin of Kevin’s underarm in a move that made Cas wince in sympathy.

When they yelled cut, Dean was already working on one of Kevin’s hands while the PA started the sensitive process of unstrapping his toes. Kevin took in deep breaths, glare softening into a blissed out smile that Cas has actually gotten used to. (Truthfully, that’s his favorite part. Watching the scene end and seeing the goofy grins and relaxed shoulders and catching a glimpse at the sweet dynamics between the actors. _Whatever_ if that makes him a sap.) 

“Adam should be out in the hall by now, want someone to go check for him?” Cas heard Dean ask as he was massaging at the shorter man’s shoulders and then saw him immediately gesture to the nearest PA to go to the door. Scanning the room, he waved Cas over with a big smile and Cas found his feet were moving before his brain could entirely compute what he was doing. 

“Kev! Meet my friend Cas! Cas, this is Kevin, who I just _destroyed,”_ Dean grinned, putting an arm around Kevin’s shoulders and mussing at his hair affectionately. 

“Nice to meet you,” Kevin reached a hand out to shake and Cas was shocked to receive a boardroom ready two pumps, firm grip sort of deal. “Reports of my destruction are _greatly exaggerated,”_ he teased back and Dean gave a sort of proud smile, “but whatever, he _is_ good.” 

“Kevin’s boyfriend — Adam from editing?” he asked as if Cas might know who that is, “is about to swing by to _personally handle_ aftercare today…”

“We have an arrangement,” Kevin added, as if that explained everything. Cas was admittedly kind of curious — but didn’t want to pry. 

“But that means I’m free as a Skynyrd song after this,” Dean stretched his arms over his head, making his shirt ride up and focused his attention on Cas. “Wanna make good on that coffee? You can tell me what you thought of the show.” Another wink. 

This time, he didn’t say “no.”


	6. Full Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Via flashback, here’s how Sam finds out.

_**Three Years Ago…** _

Sam’s a man of routine. Sometimes he blames it on his former marine father, the way he straightens his rumpled bed sheets each morning until they lay in flat crisp lines, but then he remembers (fondly) that his older brother only changes his sheets on holidays or hastily before his next hook-up arrives. So maybe some things aren’t hereditary. 

He’s a hit-the-alarm- _before_ -it-sounds kind of guy, padding his way across his apartment to the coffeemaker, stretching his arms up above his head and ducking them down before his massive wing span makes him knock his elbows against the doorframe. 

He got one text — a dumb picture of his brother shoving a piece of avocado toast in his mouth with a thumbs up and the words  “Happy now, Sammy?” — per their semi-regular cholesterol and wholistic approach to health argument. (Everyone’s got their love language — Sam’s happens to be nagging.) 

He smiles at the picture anyway and saves it; Who cares if he’s sentimental. 

With  _hours_ before he’s due to meet his boss in court — a small copyright case that they were likely to close before the judge in just a few short meetings — he was thrilled to find his calendar left him a rare morning to himself. He could go for a jog, make himself a mouth-watering breakfast from that cookbook he’d gotten for Christmas, maybe even watch some TV…

His phone buzzed again. 

 **Dean:** Sammy, would you be okay looking over something for me?

His brother, a longtime mechanic and handyman (what Sam affectionately calls “a Jerk-of-all-trades,”) didn’t often make use of Sam’s “fancy ass law degree,” save for the occasional jokes about committing a murder or two. So it peaked his interest. 

 **Sam** : Of course. What for?  

_Dean is typing…_

And Dean _kept typing_ (and most likely deleting) for a while… which got Sam more than a little concerned.

 **Dean:** Actually, don’t freak out, but maybe we should meet up. 

An hour, a half pot of coffee and a revelation later — Sam, unfortunately, did freak out. A little. 

I mean, to be fair, he discovered that his brother’s job of the last few years hasn’t actually been various handy-man gigs and moonlighting at the garage owned by their uncle. (Those things _did_ go down, he clarified, but were mostly favors.) He wanted to kick himself for not realizing that a pile of part-time jobs (no matter _how good_ ) wouldn’t have provided that money Dean sent each semester he was in law school with a note that said “don’t fuck it up! :P” and help him hold on to the nice downtown apartment he moved into a few years back; He always just assumed that since Dean had started working right after he got his GED at 17, he was just super good at saving and living modestly. (He was a clueless  _idiot_.) 

“Porn, Dean? Porn?!” It’s maybe the third time he’s said that and the third time Dean gently nodded between sips of his coffee, calmly explaining that he didn’t regret anything. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to summon up the sex positive, liberal-as-they-come Californian that still lived somewhere inside him. 

“You done?” Dean smiled, seemingly prepared for Sam’s crisis and ready to move on with the conversation with a shitton of patience. “I’m going to be as straight-forward with you as I can Sam, but I need you to promise me that you’ll believe me when I say that I am fully aware and happy with the decisions I’ve made and I need you to try your best not to be a judgmental bitch about it. Capiche?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam groaned, sipping long and hard from his Americano to avoid having to say anything else. “Can you tell me how this happened — I mean, fuck, sorry — I mean how you got into this?” 

“It was during your senior year. I was bogged down with jobs at three garages and tending the bar for Ellen on weekends, remember?” 

Sam did. Dean and him had a weekly Skype call on Monday nights (the only night Dean was off and the only night Sam didn’t have class) and he could _still_ picture the deep, dark circles under his eyes. 

“Well, it was a rough go and I was sleeping on Bobby’s couch and getting fed by Ellen most nights until I met this girl. We spent a night together at her place and got to talking about my situation and she told me she knew a way for me to get a better paying gig. ”

“So one one-night stand with a porn star and suddenly you’re a —” 

“Hey! I know you’re worried, so I’m gonna let it slide, but _don’t push it Sammy_. I’ve read plenty of pamphlets about sex work and the biases people out of the business tend to have and I really don’t need that shit from you.” 

Sam’s face fell when he realized what he was doing — and the genuine warning look Dean just shot — and he looked significantly more apologetic. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, go on.” 

“She was an editor, by the way, — assume much? — for a production company downtown and introduced me to her boss. It’s not really that interesting: He offered me a trial run in a few shoots. Nothing crazy, just plain old vanilla sex. Kinda boring come to think of it…” 

Sam paled: “TMI dude, TMI.” 

“Sorry, right — prude,” Dean smirked and Sam fought the urge to glare at him. “I’ve been in the business ever since. I won’t tell you it’s all been great: I’ve had to do a lot of processing and figure out what works for me and what doesn’t and it’s taken me a long-ass time to get over feeling ashamed and embarrassed about it all — especially once I started, uh, going both ways.”

“Dean, I _know_ you’re not straight. I’ve always known that,” Sam laughed (to Dean’s relief), adding thoughtfully, “I mean, we shared a wall. And you’ve always given off pansexual vibes.”

“I go by bi, generally, but yeah,” Dean shrugged, but looked relieved that this “coming out” wasn’t as multi-pronged as he originally feared. “So, uh, look, I’ve jumped between two companies in the last few years. The first guy, I wasn’t a fan of the way he ran his ship and the kind of roles he wanted me for…” 

“Dean, if something happened…” Sam’s hand curled into a fist, eyes going a shade darker.  

“It’s fine, Sam. I left pretty soon after I started getting the heebee-jeebees. I learned the importance of doing unofficial background checks on potential employers and I trusted my instincts. Either way, I found my way to Crowley’s — He’s better, real bureaucratic and stuffy but fair. But now…” 

“Now…”

“I just got an offer, a really great offer, from another company. They’re sorta the new kid on the block that swept a lot of industry awards last month and I dig their vibe, the owner seems weird but cool and I _really dig_ the pay raise they want to give me to be on contract with them for _way_ less working hours.”

“Okay,” Sam gestured toward Dean’s bag at his feet, “So you’ll let me look over the paperwork and maybe do some negotiation for you?”

“Let you?” Dean laughed, sliding a manilla folder over the table. “I was gonna just ask you to look it over, but I wouldn’t mind having your nerdy two cents on this.” 

“Dude, I’m not going to let you go in blind to this kind of thing for one,” Sam said, ignoring the look of indignation from Dean and his protests that he’s “ _practically a veteran_ ” by now. “And it’s always helpful to have representation. Let these people know you’re in control and have people looking out for you.” 

“God,” Dean covered his face with his hands, sort of mortified. “I love you, Sammy, I do, but you _gotta_ know this isn’t some sad Lifetime movie. It’s a job, the people are all good people and no one is pilfering my virtue.”

Sam snorted “virtue, _right_ …” but his face grew serious one more time. “You promise to tell me if there’s ever even the slightest thing that makes you uncomfortable? You promise me you’ll only do this if it makes you happy and you’ll let me help if there’s anything at all?”

“Bitch,” Dean rolled his eyes but smiled fondly anyway. “Yeah, yeah, I promise.” Glib as he sounded, Sam could see in his eyes that he meant it and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Looking at his watch, Sam realized he was due across town in an hour. 

“I’ll look these over and call you tonight with my thoughts for revisions, negotiations and all that,” he put the folder in his own bag. “But, uh, you mind giving me a ride home and maybe to the courthouse? I, uh, walked over and I still need to change.” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll pay the tab, just meet me in the car, yeah?” Dean smiled to himself as Sam protested and tried to slip him five bucks, relieved that this thing, this secret, wasn’t between them anymore. And even though he’d deny it, he was even more relieved that his (giant) little brother _still_ felt like his little brother (and he had a gut feeling that it was one thing that would never change.) 


	7. Watch and Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas’ friendship develops outside work.

Cas got to the coffee shop the morning before his shift hoping to nail down a few pages before call time. He expected to see Dean there: it was something of a routine for them over the last month or so since the first time they got coffee after work. They’d meet a few mornings a week and work in friendly, only sometimes awkward silence: Dean doing work for an online class he was taking, fielding emails or just reading a book, Cas tapping away at his manuscript. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to see Dean lounging in an Adirondack chair on the porch, soaking in the summer sun — cup of coffee balanced on one knee, newspaper in one hand, the table occupied with a muffin and another cup— with a leash wrapped around his other wrist, attached to the droopiest, sleepiest, _mostest_ animal Cas had _ever_ seen. 

Cas wasn’t sure why Dean was holding the leash so tightly, after all, the dog, splayed out on the grass sort of looked like someone had just spilled a partially liquidized dog on the ground. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, stepping closer. 

“Hey Cas!” Dean smiled, folding his newspaper and picking up his coffee cup just in time to pull at the leash as the goo-dog hopped to his feet (taking a significantly more solid form) desperate to greet or possibly maul Cas.  “Herc! Come on. Stay. Quit it!” 

Cas vaguely recognized the dog (now that it had a shape) as a wider version of the one in half his Facebook photos. Friendly, standing coffee meet-ups aside, he certainly wasn’t going to let Dean know the lengths of his cyber creeping. 

“He yours? Cas took a chance and reached to scratch at the dog’s ear, happy to see him settle down and lean in to the touch. Cas was relieved that the animal didn’t hate him at first sight like his sister’s cat or start violently humping his leg like his uncle’s temperamental schnauzer. 

“Yeah, Cas, meet Hercules Winchester,” Dean gestured as the beast started to melt back into the floor now that the introductions were done. “Part english bulldog, part meatloaf, all handsome.”

“Cute,” Cas smiled, settling down as Dean gestured to the spread on the small table. “Thanks by the way. How long have you had him?” 

“Three years this November,” Dean shrugged. “I never was an animal guy growing up — hated the idea of dog hair in my car or my house — but Sammy came to me a few years back with a sob story about Herc and his brother who were having a hard time finding homes since they were grown and said they were gonna get split up or put down or some bullshit and I _couldn’t_ let that happen.” 

Hercules let out a wet sneeze/snort in agreement. 

“I bet you have a bumper sticker that says “Who rescued who?” or “dog dad,” Like anytime he managed to get outside his own head long enough to have a real conversation with Dean (Cas wasn’t sure when he became comfortable enough to look at him let alone tease him) he was amazed that he managed to do it all without choking on his own words.

“Shut up,” Dean smiled at the good-natured teasing. “And no way no sticker, stick-figure family or truck nuts would ever be allowed within miles of Baby’s paint job.” He added with a grin, “I do have some T-shirts…” 

“So what happened to his brother? Is he at home?” Cas asked. 

“Percy lives with Sammy across town. We used to share a place but then he got a promotion and wanted to be downtown near the firm and I wanted to be, uh, not and near here,” Dean shrugged. “So Herc and I see our brothers most afternoons or mornings for a dog park hang or a hike.”

Cas nodded. Giving Dean a once-over, he wondered how he wasn’t sweating wearing long pants and shoes and socks in the July heat. He looked comfortable in just his T-shirt, if starting to get a little color over his freckles, nursing a hot coffee and sitting in the partial shade. Cas had already taken to wearing the same 3 pairs of cut-offs and whatever light-weight, sleeveless shirts he’d had left over from college — days like today made him thankful for Gabriel’s lack of dress code. 

“You got any?” Dean asked, wrapping Herc’s leash around the leg of the chair — which didn’t seem to faze him as he snored,

“Huh?”

“Animals?” 

“Oh, uh, we had some goats and chicken on our property growing up and my uncle kept bees but we weren’t really pet people,” Cas shrugged, relaxing back into his chair and stretching his arms up over his head, groaning a little when he felt a tired muscle pop. He looked over and saw Dean with a blank look on his face. “I’m sorry, are you hot? I feel like I’m hogging all the shade.” 

Dean shrugged and shifted his chair over closer to Cas’, coaxing Herc along with him and into the shade. 

“Goats and Chickens and bees,” Dean laughed. “I thought Gabe said y’all were from New York?” 

“It’s a big state,” Cas shrugged, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Way bigger than Law and Order makes it seem.” 

“Who woulda thought cute little innocent farm boy Cas had such a mean streak,” Dean smiled, eyebrows raised and Cas felt his blush rising (he’d had a good run, but was still a flailing fool when confronted with Dean’s flirtatious side.)

“I’m not trying to—” Cas wiped at his face with his hands scrambling for words before fingers — two or maybe three — ghosted along the bottom of his foot. It happened so fast, he might’ve imagined it, but his reflexes took over slamming his foot onto the ground and back into his sandal and sucking in a deep breath. He cursed himself internally for reacting at all before finally looking up at Dean. 

“Well,” Dean smiled again and Cas was having a hard time deciding if this was a smile he hated or _really, really liked_. “This i _s_ a development.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cas shuffled his body to the side, getting as far away from that devious smile (which he’d watched live in action and on video too many times for him to count.)

“Cas, I’m a _professional_ ,” Dean inched forward toward the edge of his chair, Cas watching his hands like they were lethal weapons. “I have a very specific set of skills.”

Cas looked around and didn’t see any of the other patrons giving them a second thought and couldn’t tell if he was mortified or excited or terrified by the prospect of Dean turning his attention and skills on him. He suddenly felt hyper aware of all the skin within reach and swallowed hard.

“D-dean,” Cas scrambled back, lifting his legs up tucking them into his body, trying desperately to hide his cheeks in his arms. A small smile sneaking on to his face at the thought of hands getting too close.

“You thought I wouldn’t find out eventually, Cas?” Cas wasn’t looking at him, afraid his heart (already beating in his ears) would burst out of his chest in addition to his embarrassing preemptive giggles. “Like it wasn’t already written all over your face?”

Cas peeked his head up after a few grueling seconds, realizing that Dean hadn’t moved an inch. The look on his face, to just about anyone else, would seem absolutely angelic: thoughtful and focused.

Cas knew better, offering a wholly ineffective glare. 

“What?” Dean asked, returning to his newspaper with that smile lingering. 

Cas opened his laptop and got to work on his pages, refusing to glance up from his screen no matter how much his friend managed to make his skin crawl just by looking at him. 

The rest of the morning went by in companionable silence. Dean only getting up once to get Hercules some water and himself a refill, but staying very much in his own personal space. 

When it became time for Cas to check in for his shift, he slid his bag over his shoulder, ready to say goodbye to Dean and Hercules (that latter whose rhythmic snorts, slurps and not-quite-burps made for a surprisingly soothing writing soundtrack despite the former’s attempts at mid-games).  

“That time already?” Dean stood up, rocking back on his heels before pulling Cas into a hug. This was new. Cas adjusted enough to wrap an arm around him and slap his back once. 

“See you Thursday?” 

Cas pulled away, but Dean held him a beat longer, ducking low to his ear: “I won’t tickle you ‘less I know you want me to, you know that right?”

Cas might’ve said “I know” in a voice three octaves too high before jogging out of Dean’s arms and over toward the studio building. It didn’t help that the hairs on his neck stood up every time he heard the word “tickle” that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is yet another filler-ish entry but sets up a few other ones. I’m kinda surprised I pulled this together and that I actually have thorough outlines for the next few entries into this ‘verse. WOW. (ALSO SAY WHAT YOU WANT, BUT DEAN AS A #DogDad COMPLETES ME. He and Sam co-adopting a pair of those bonded older dogs ALSO completes me.)


	8. One on One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Dean have their meet up while Cas is working a different scene.

Cas just finished saran-wrapping the legs of another actress (a seemingly always naked brunette named Meg who refuses to learn his real name after 5 shoots together) to a long bench, her joking and winking and making suggestive comments that had his ears turning pink the entire time, when he felt a tentative jab at his side.

“Hey stranger!” 

“Dean,” Cas stepped back, a hand moving unconsciously to rub at the spot Dean poked. “I didn’t see you on the schedule. Are you shooting today?”

It had been a week since the development and Cas was proud of himself for managing to recover his wits and his tongue for the next time they planned to grab coffee. Granted, he still felt like his skin ran several degrees warmer and could hear Dean’s voice “I won’t tickle you ‘less I know you want me to…’ whenever he managed to quiet down the rest of his thoughts. But it was _fine_. Really. Dean meant what he said and it was clear that he used every ounce of his charm to make sure Cas always felt at ease when they were together. 

So things were normal — given the very strange working definition Cas now had for “normal.” 

“Naw, I just have my monthly check-up with Dr. Kink,” Cas furrowed his eyebrows. “Your brother? Gabe’s monthly meetings?” 

“Oh yeah. That.” 

“Do you even have to do that or is that just every night at the dinner table for you two?” 

“We don’t have dinner every night, Dean.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dean smiled that little smile that Cas got every time took something too literally or didn’t get a joke. Cas was used to those kind of looks but appreciated that it wasn’t condescending when Dean did it. 

“Deano!” Meg shouted from her spot on the bench. “Don’t tell me you’re gone on Clarence too! We just started getting _cozy._ ”

Cas coughed and tugged at his shirt, ready to explain to Dean that Meg  thoroughly enjoyed getting him to turn a deep beet red color (discovered the first time he had to strap her down to some contraption topless) and that there was no romantic attraction there —but was relieved to see Dean didn’t miss a beat. 

“Topping from the bottom as always, Meg?” Dean grinned and wiggled his fingers over her bound feet just close enough to make her flinch (it happened so fast, Cas is surprised he didn’t miss it.) “Gotcha.”

“Real nice, picking on a girl who’s already tied up,” Meg countered, unimpressed. “Speaking of: Your ass is mine next week, by the way.”

For a minute, something on his face betrayed him and Dean laughed nervously “I don’t suppose I can tell you how beautiful your hair looks in this lighting? Is that lipstick new?”

“You can tell me,” she smiled, “but I can’t say it’ll help you much, Tiger.”

 “Always a pleasure, Meg,” Dean laughed. “Be nice to Cas, alright?”

“I’m _always_ nice,” she rolled her eyes before examining Bella (her scene partner for the day, who was handling some stiff looking feathers across the room) with a skeptical eye. 

“Let me know if you want to grab some coffee when you’re done?” Dean asked. “Herc and I were going to hit the bike path once it cools down a little.”

“Possibly. I did want to work on some pages but,” he forgot where he was going with that when he looked back at Dean’s face. “I could use the fresh air.”

“Tons of that out there!” Dean gave him a winning smile before looking at his watch. “I’ll text you? Have a good shift!” he threw over his shoulder as he jogged out of the room. 

“Damn Clarence,” Meg whistled once the door closed behind him. “Look at you coming in and sweeping Boy Wonder off his feet.” 

“Dean and I are _friends_ ,” Cas sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.  

“Looks like it,” Meg agreed. “But for the right people that’s a bit of a gateway drug, isn’t it Angel-face?” 

Cas looked down at his feet. “C’mon, Meg.”

“You still gotta oil me up, kid,” Meg wiggled her toes at him. “But, if it soothes your oh-so-fragile self-esteem, I could see that happening for you two. Are you a Scorpio? Taurus moon maybe?” 

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Cas said but also laughed a bit, reaching over to grab the baby oil and coat his hands. 

“Ah, he _can_ smile! Had me worried you were a defective, broken baby bird for a while there,” She sighed at Cas’ first move of a massage. He was still quietly satisfied with himself whenever the models he worked with seemed impressed by his skill. “You’re just a little intense sometimes? Like you’re always afraid you’re gonna say or do the wrong thing.”

He nodded, focusing on his task. She’s not wrong, but _still_. 

“Now, you’re good at that,” Meg shifted her feet (as little as she could) in his hands. “What else you got? Wanna give me a little test tickle?”

“What?” 

“Relax, Stiff,” Meg cracked her neck to one side. “I’m going to have Lady Di-lite over there going at me with a feather for the next hour and it’s going to be frustrating as hell and a little bit of a warm-up never hurts.” She cleared her throat haughtily. “Besides, It’s good for _my instrument—_ and you might, heaven forbid, have a little fun.” 

Cas snorted at that. When Meg wasn’t going after him like a wild cat, he liked her a lot. And, now, of course, just like he was that first day with Dean (wondering aloud if he liked being tickled) he was _curious._

“I guess?” Cas looked over his shoulders, unsure if Charlie or Gabe would appear with some paperwork and give him a “bad touch” talk. “Don’t you need to fill out some forms about explicit—”

“Dude, it’ll last a minute and—” she raised her voice loud enough to reach the hallway “I AM _EXPLICITLY CONSENTING_ TO HAVING THIS MAN TICKLE ME BEFORE THIS SHOOT. HE IS NOT CREEPY. I AM.” 

The room paused but carried on unfazed within seconds as Cas cringed. 

“See? It’ll be fine. The forms are mostly for on-camera work and we’re _friends_ ,” she said. “Unless you’re a terrible, weak-ass, ‘ler who can’t get the job done.”

“I could get someone el—” 

“Stop, seriously, I was trying to light a fire under your ass,” she sighed. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how?”

“Of course I know how…this is just weird,” Cas wanted to try it and see what the fuss was about. “What do you mean it’s going to be frustrating?”

“You’re taking your good sweet time, I guess. Fine,” Meg reached up with her cuffed hands to scratch at her nose — still a weirdly casual gesture given the situation.”Different touches feel differently depending on the body part, the amount of pressure and the mood someone’s in. Feathers can either be great or feel like a bug’s crawling on your foot for an hour— and since I’ll probably need to fake some laughter for the camera for a little and I’m in the mood to _get wrecked_ , this first half is going to require more acting than I’ve done since my Community Theater days.”

“You did community theater? Really?” Cas’ eyes narrowed, joking—Meg smiled. 

Figuring it was now or never, Cas started with a gentle run of his nail down her sole thinking of the videos of Dean he’d watched— Meg let out a full-bodied shiver, gritting her teeth to hold back a small giggle (that sounded like it should be coming out of someone else).

“None of the soft shit, s’not what you’re here fo-ah!—” Cas had to admit, finding a way to cut Meg off was particularly convenient. Making a claw out of his hands, he found his nails scraping at skin once, twice, three times under the balls of her feet —he hadn’t been tickled for real in a while (and no one’s gone after his feet since he was a child) and tried to operate based on what he knew would feel fucking awful. If the giggles turning to laughter was any indication– it was working.

“Whoahohoa, Clahaharence! You were h-o-olding out on me.” Meg clenched her toes forward and Cas pulled back, surprised. “No! Don’t quit while you’re ahead! It means you’re doing it right, dumbass.” 

Cas rolled his eyes and scribbled his fingers over the tops of her feet like he’d seen Benny do before in a scene. Satisfied with the way she squealed as her feet unscrunched, Cas resumed the scratching from before, alternating between each foot, noting the moves that pulled Meg’s laugh higher or huskier and repeating them at random.

He had to admit she had a nice smile and it felt good to put it there— and, somehow, for all her efforts, she somehow put him at ease. 

“We’re gonna start in five!” Charlie called out. “You warmed up enough, Meg?”

“It’ll do!” She called back as Cas eased off of her and she reclined against to let out the last few giggles. ”If you thought _that_ was fun, wait ‘til you get your hands on Dean— _a_ nd maybe try and stay out of your head a little, yeah?”

Cas would never have thought he’d want to say “thank you” to a naked, saran-wrapped woman he’d just tickled — but, then again, he figured it might just be another part of that new normal.

* * *

Dean headed down the hall and knocked twice at Gabe’s office door. 

“Come on in, Deanie-bean,” Gabe called and Dean rolled his eyes. 

They had an easy chat — Dean went over his self-care and after-care logs, mentioned that he was open to meeting some of the new recruits to potentially have them added to his roster of scene partners and took a pamphlet about a bystander intervention workshop that Gabe’s friend Kali was putting on next week. 

Dean used to have a harder time opening up about the process — he hated talking about it beyond a “show up, do the shoot, leave” level when he first started, but has soon found that talking about it and checking in with people who care about him made a lot of the discomfort go away. 

“Oh and one more thing…” Gabe didn’t even have to say anything else, just raised one eyebrow and Dean ducked his head, hoping for fucks sake he wasn’t blushing (but, realistically he was _so sure_ he was blushing.)

He was on to him. _Of course_ he was.

“My baby brother came in for a shift the other day jumpier than a grasshopper at a bouncy house… Any ideas why?” 

“Uh,” Dean squirmed in his seat. Gabe looked on waiting for him to speak up and for once actually looked the part of a boss. “Cas is one of the coolest, smartest people I’ve ever met and I would never ever do anything to make him uncomfortable or unhappy.” Dean conveniently left out “cutest, dorkiest and drop-dead sexiest” from his overture. 

“Good. He needs more good people in his life who see that,” Gabe nodded. “He’s tough to get to know, but it’s worth it.”

“I know what you mean,” Dean smiled a dorky little smile and, briefly, didn’t care that Gabe saw him do it.

“You know that this has gotta stay a safe place — for you and him?”

“I know,” he wanted to ask what Cas had said about him, wanted to know if this was the complete shovel talk (he had a hunch that Cas _could_ be into him once he was more comfortable around him) or if it was just Gabe flexing his big brother muscles ( _Of course_ , Dean knew all of these tricks too.)

“Then I think we’re good ‘til next time,”Gabe looked back down at his paperwork.”Take care of yourself, Dean,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LITERALLY I am so shocked that I finished this (before midnight too? WTF). I had a really good first round of a job interview and a lot of energy to burn off — so here’s the next chapter. It was originally just gonna be filler but I kinda got into the idea of Meg topping Cas from the bottom while #RealTalking to him about Dean and went with it.


	9. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was going fine until it wasn't. (Cas sees a scene go bad.)

Dean smiled when he walked on set and saw Cas dutifully cleaning the bench they were going to use for the shoot — one of the weird rubber and metal ones (that could make your ass fall asleep if you’re in it for too long) that are more functional than aesthetically pleasing. 

He tossed his bag in the corner, greeted Charlie with a goose to her ribs before jogging back over to Cas. Stretching with a yawn and cracking his back as he said hello. 

“You don’t look sunburnt at all!” Dean laughed, smacking him on the back and watching him cringe. He remembered how dutifully the other man had applied layers of sunblock while they hiked the other day (when Dean had both Percy and Hercules while Sam worked even more OT) only to get a bit of a burn right between his shoulders. 

(He  _won’t_  comment about how he thought about offering to apply some extra to his back, no  _sir_.) 

“It’s mostly faded now, but that  _still_ smarts,” Cas groaned, crumbling up the disinfectant wipe and tossing it at Dean’s head. 

“ _Smarts? D_ amn, you sound more country than me today,” he needled with a yawn, picking up the fallen trash at his feet and shooting it into a nearby trash can like a foul shot (he missed) holding his hand out in the follow-through for a beat too long.

“Did I mention how happy I am to finally watch you and Meg perform together?” Cas added darkly, that small hint of a teasing smile that Dean was starting to adore dragging at his lips. 

“Only when you’re being an ass, yeah,” Dean rolled his eyes. “She’s got a sense of showmanship, I’ll tell you that much.”

 He mentally catalogued their pre-agreed plans— Cas was  _certainly_  in for a show. 

“But Meg is rigging everything herself this time, right?” Cas asked and Dean was hoping he wasn’t imagining that bit of disappointment in his voice as he recalled that his list of duties didn’t include setting Dean up on the bench this time. 

“Yep,” Dean nodded, shrugging off his sweatpants and revealing a pair of basketball shorts. “You can look, but you  _can’t touch_.” 

Cas rolled his eyes (but turned the prettiest shade of pink.)  Dean knew he sounded at-best shameless and at-worst like  _such a dork_ , but couldn’t help but get a thrill at the back-and-forth, cat-and-mouse game developing between him and Cas. 

He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he felt pretty confident that he’d broken through some of the major walls that had previously kept Cas at a nervous distance. He wasn’t sure when it happened but somehow, between their long days at the cafe together (where Dean dutifully pretended he wasn’t watching Cas write and Cas dutifully pretended he wasn’t enjoying the warmth that spread over his skin from being watched) and their little moments making faces at one another across the studio — something changed.

* * *

“Hey there boys, you ready to party?” Meg held a few coils of rope and waved over to Charlie to indicate they were starting soon “How was  _your_  weekend?” 

Cas gave a non-committal grunt as Dean chatted happily about their hike and about some recipe he tried, how Benny was at some conference in Santa Fe all week and he and Herc were  _bored._  

It was your typical water cooler talk —all while Meg was winding rope around his body in intricate patterns. Cas tried not to stare at the patterns over Dean’s freckled skin, but decided to let himself have this one thing.

Before long, Dean’s legs were pinned to the front of the bench, the ropes making diamond shapes down his thighs and calves. He raised his arms and they were eventually bound in a similar style — more restrictive at the elbows than Cas had really seen him before. 

“Meg is a rope artist, in case it wasn’t obvious,” Dean volunteered to Cas, probably noting the way he stared curiously at the whole operation. “She’s got certifications in all sorts of kinky shit, right?”

“That’s right. I’m over-qualified to be playing with you, Cornboy,” she laughed, patting him on the cheek. “Fingers, toes, arms, anything feeling off?” 

“Nah, it’s perfect — but you knew that.” 

“I had a hunch, but pay attention to how your hands feel and keep me posted. And remember close your eyes for a three count if you can’t talk or get your word out or need my attention.” 

“Yes, M’am,” he smirked and she reached over and gave his nipple the smallest of pinches, making him squawk out a flustered “Fuck!”

Cas looked at the floor, trying to hide his amused expression at how indignant Dean looked. 

“It’s too early for you to be sassing me, Winchester.” 

He grinned at her and she ruffled his hair with a healthy dose of affection (a display that has no business being as adorable as it was.)

“Clarence,” She turned to Castiel. “Go grab the tool box by Charlie and check that,” she counted on her hands “the 12 toothbrushes all have fresh batteries?”

“Twelve?” Cas asked, just to be sure. Looking over at Dean who didn’t look at all surprised (if still a little edge-y). 

“Did I stutter?” she laughed, picking up several long metal stands and positioning them around Dean. 

Cas moved quickly to check all the items and bring them back, keeping the extra pack of batteries in his shorts pocket. By the time he returned to Meg and Dean, he had a pretty good idea of their plans. 

She took the box from him with a kiss to his cheek that made his face flame (”inappropriate,” he muttered and she laughed) before positioning the brushes at the fixed points along Dean’s body: his feet, the undersides of his knees, his hips, his ribs, underarms with one leveraged right around the lower part of his stomach. 

He sucked in his gut for a moment and could already feel his heart-rate picking up. 

“Okay, Dean, before the cameras, I just gotta check each one and make sure they’re in the right spot,” Meg said. “Tell me if anything feels not right at all.” 

And Cas watched, half with horror and half with awe as Meg systematically ran through each spot. The ones at his feet (first his left, then his right) made him yelp, but Meg adjusted so one hung higher on the right and closer to the center on the left before shutting them off. She fiddled with the ones at his left knee, watching how he wiggled and nodding before doing the same for the right. 

Dean took a deep breath when her hands ghosted past his hips to check out the one on his stomach. Cas knew, by now, the devastating effect attention to Dean’s hips had on his friend — he didn’t need a creepy unrequited co-worker crush to learn that part of Dean’s personal brand. 

Meg made quick work of the ones at each under arm before quickly checking the hips (and helping him through his residual giggles.) 

Cas went over by Charlie to be close by for whatever she needed and they heard the tell-tale quiet for the start.

Dean was right, Meg did have a  _flair (_ not that Benny lacked one) but she played an affectionate evil really well. Cas hadn’t been to a shoot where there was some sort of plot before, so he wasn’t doing too well keeping up with the dialogue but got the gist (that Meg’s character goes around trapping hot dudes and leaving them in precarious ticklish situations) and assumed the rest didn’t really matter.

* * *

“Alright, everything seems to be in working order,” Meg had stood up and dusted herself off when she finished testing the damn brushes, turning to Dean (who’d broken a bit of a sweat in the set-up). “Still feeling good?”

“All good here, boss,” Dean nodded, though admittedly he had a nervous pinch in his stomach since they hadn’t tried a scene like this before together with all the rope work and the machinery _and_ the head games. There was a lot going on — but he decided the excitement trumped the nerves anyway. 

When the scene began, Dean was able to do the little bits of dialogue (mostly improv) needed and prepare his brain for what was about to go down. 

When Meg, intimidating as hell in character, started to flick on the brushes one by one, the effect was electric (literally). 

At first, Dean valiantly held back his laughter, groaning and cursing as the brushes started at his knees and ribs. But the ones at his midsection, hips and feet easily released the giggles: first steady and manageable but quickly growing a bit more frantic.

It was his underarms, actually, that made him realize that he might have over-estimated himself just a little. He jerked violently when she turned on the left one, leaning a little too far toward the right (just as much as the rope-work would allow) just in time for her to turn that one on. So he quickly found himself waffling back and forth into such intense sensations (that  _also_  made his hips and ribs hit alternating points of the brushes positioned near them) that his resolve was crumbling  _way_ faster than he anticipated. 

Meg stood by for a beat, appraising her catch, before dropping the last brush in the waistband of Dean’s shorts, kissing him on the forehead and walking out of the frame. 

She stood nearby and watched closely as Dean called for her to come back, still in character for the scene. He knew she was there, knew all the ways he could end it, but otherwise he felt truly alone with the sensations —and they were  _overwhelming_.

He ran through the timeline, knew that Meg would be back in the frame in 3 minutes to give him an on-camera break and a tease-y monologue before they adjusted. He took a deep breath, dangerously close to silent laughter already, as he shifted his hips just wrong and sent the brush in his shorts (that  _was_ pleasantly buzzing against his underwear but away from anything too intense) right into the hyper-sensitive crease where his thighs met his hips. And his laughter hitched up another octave and he squirmed desperately against the ropes that held him just a little bit too still. 

_Oh god, I can’t do this._

It was only when he realized he’d said that out loud (the sensations still roaring around his skin, already sweaty from the lights and exertion) that he realized what he had to do. 

Everything was going fine until it wasn’t. And he called it. 

“Fuck,  _Impala_.” 

* * *

“Hey! Hey! You did good, Deano, we’re getting you out,” Meg was in his ear immediately, whispering soothing words as she cut through the ropes effortlessly, knocking away the tooth brushes that had already been pulled off of him (though Dean could still faintly hear the buzzing and shivered). 

Charlie was at his other side and just finished freeing his legs as his arms came down. She reached over and hugged him, told him she was proud of him for knowing his limits and stepped back to let Meg examine his arms. They had faint marks, which he expected from their 45 minute long shoot —but not from barely 15 minutes in the ropes.

“I’m so sorry — Cas, grab Dean’s shirts will ya?” She called out, still rubbing at his wrists gently. “Any idea what went wrong?” 

“I just uh,” Dean blinked a few times, realizing that his head felt heavy and his heartbeat was racing. “I definitely miscalculated being able to handle that all at once. Just because I can do hands everywhere does not mean I can do—” he gestured with his hands at the discarded brushes and ropes. 

“That’s good to know. I’m glad you were in a place to catch it before I did, sweetie,” she grabbed a water from the other PA and held it up for him to sip. “Gabe is going to come down in a few to check on you and I’m going to do the initial report, but we can do the full debrief paperwork together later this week, okay?” 

“Yeah, that’d uh, that’d be good,” Dean rasped. 

He felt tired. Not in the giddy, gooey way he did after a regular scene, but like his whole body felt heavy and weighed down at his limbs. He knew enough to remind himself that there was no issue with safe-wording, that he was expected as a performer to do so when he needed. But a part of him still felt like an idiot. 

“I know Benny is usually your contact for emergency situations and he’s away. Should we call Sam?” Charlie asked and Dean tried to focus long enough to hear what she said. 

“Huh?”

“Should I call Sam?” 

“Sammy’s in court ‘til 2 today and I don’t know how fast he’d be able to get his phone,” Dean remembered, hating the thought of Sam leaving work because of him.”I can always hang here for a few hours though, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s about you being comfortable, Dean,” Meg sighed. “We can take an Uber together and I’ll set you up with some A+ aftercare movies and-” 

“Meg, you have shoots all day today. I really don’t want to throw anyone off their schedules or mess anything up–”

Meg looked ready to argue as Cas arrived with Dean’s t-shirt and hoodie, looking white as a ghost.

“Dean, hey, how are you?” Gabe arrived just in time to interrupt. He pulled out a bag of gummy bears and fished around for a green one — Dean’s favorite — as Cas helped him step into his sweatpants, letting him drape an arm over his shoulder as he stepped into them. (Dean smiled just a little at the casual contact.)

“I’m fine, Gabe,” Dean sighed, pulling his shirt over his head. The clothes already made him feel less vulnerable and more centered. This was good. “Just didn’t anticipate the full overstimulation bit of it all, you know? Didn’t prepare myself enough.”

“I’m ignoring the part that sounds like you’re blaming yourself,” he arched an eyebrow and handed a pile of green bears over to Dean, making him smile. “But, you did really great knowing your limit. I know that can be difficult to keep track of in the busier, complicated shoots. It’s all a learning experience. Did someone call Sam already?”

“He’s got a big day and I really would prefer not to bother him, Gabe,” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll just go home and snuggle with Herc and it’ll be fine. I’ll even call you before bed.”

“Dean, I literally cannot — based on my own policies as your boss and as your friend — send you off alone after safe-wording,” Gabe said. “If you don’t want Sam, I’ll bring you home myself and we’ll eat pizza and you can kick my ass at Mario Party?”

“Gabe, you have more on your plate than anyone. What if someone _else_ has to safeword and you’re at home babying me? Not gonna happen.”

“Okay, then Cassie, _you’re up,_ ” Gabe gestured to Cas, who had been standing quietly, just watching Dean with a nervous expression. “If that’s okay with you, Dean?”

“Huh?” Cas looked like he wasn’t really sure what he was being asked to do. “I don’t kn-”

“I’m fine with that, I guess,” Dean conceded. “As long as Cas isn’t doing anything outside his real shift hours and,” he turned his attention to Cas with a smaller smile, “as long as he doesn’t mind hanging for a bit?”

“Of course not, Dean,” he said, a thoughtful look on his face. “Whatever you need.”

* * *

They had a quiet ride back to Dean’s house — Gabe called an Uber after a brief argument with Dean (who, admittedly, seemed determined to fight him  _and anyone’s_  attempts to “coddle” him at every turn.)

Dean didn’t seem to feel like talking and looked out the window for most of the ride. Cas, feeling like the car shrunk down 1,000 sizes too small, didn’t know what to do or say, really. Gabe said, before they left, to “just be there for Dean” and to listen if he needed to talk and understand if he feels sort of down or needs some quiet.

But Cas couldn’t help but spiral at least a little bit in the quiet of the car ride. 

He didn’t notice anything particularly off about Dean this morning and cursed himself because he  _should_  have saw  _something_ , watched for  _something_. Watching Dean perform was usually always fun, sort of thrilling—but not this time: the knowledge that Dean was uncomfortable for even a minute made him so uneasy.

“This one’s us,” Dean said as the car came to a stop. “Please, excuse the mess. The maid’s away for the week.” He laughed at his own joke and Cas gave a weak smile. 

They entered the house (cute and a decent size with a porch stained a warm brown color) and were greeted by Hercules, who was scampering back and forth between the door and the couch with excitement at Dean being home so early — and bringing along Castiel, evidently. 

The dog leapt at his legs over and over and Cas tried to placate him with the appropriate amount of ear scratches. 

“Welcome!” Dean tossed his bag in the corner and made his way through the main room to the kitchen. Cas followed, taking in the well-loved furniture (a lot of it wood, seemingly handmade) and so many homey touches — photos everywhere, some of Dean and his family, others (presumably) of Benny’s, shadow boxes with tiny tin soldiers and a worn old book, some framed concert posters and kitschy signs.  

Dean tossed Hercules a treat that he pulled out of a bulldog shaped cookie jar before turning to Cas.

“You seem quiet, what’s up?”  

“I should be asking you that, Dean,” Cas said. “I’ve never seen someone have to safeword before and I’m sorry no one realized you were uncomfortable soon eno-” 

“Dude, no,” Dean stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. Cas felt his back go stiff at the touch. “There was literally no way for anyone to know what was going on in my head without me telling them. I didn’t know anything was wrong until something  _went wrong_. And then I said my word and it was over and now we get to spend this whole afternoon with take-out and Harrison Ford.”

“But, if–” 

“Nah, no buts or ifs. Everything’s good now and nothing was your fault or my fault or Meg’s fault. Capiche?”

“Uh, I capiche,” Cas said. “I guess.”  

“Good,” Dean squeezed his shoulder one more time before turning to the fridge to retrieve a pile of take-out menus. “Now: Pizza or Thai?”

Cas paid the delivery guy at the door with the money he’d discovered Gabe had covertly slid into his pocket. (Dean grumbled a bit, but allowed it.) The two settled into the couch under a pile of blankets to eat, Hercules unceremoniously wedged himself between them (watching them eat their slices with wide, desperate eyes) as “Raiders of The Lost Ark” began to play.

Cas knew he was watching Dean watch the movie more than he was watching it himself, but couldn’t help himself. Even under the blankets, with his dog at his feet, he still had something about him that was uneasy. Something in his shoulders, in the lines on his forehead.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” He said, mouth full of pizza.

“You’ll talk to me if something’s up today, right?”

Dean gave him a playfully sour look as he swallowed.

“You know, I don’t typically really see the similarities between you,” he teased. “But, damn, you  _are_  Gabe’s brother.”

“I’m being serious, Dean.” 

“So am I,” he smiled. “It’s hard talking about it all sometimes, you know?”

Cas nodded, hoping it would invite Dean to continue.

“Like, all of this — doing porn, knowing that the things that make it harder to do my job  _aren’t_  normal and that most people won’t get it — sometimes it makes me wish…  _I don’t know_.”

Cas nodded, pausing the movie to give Dean all of his attention.

“I actually — ugh, sometimes it’s embarrassing to admit it — but I really  _do_ love my job. I’m good at it. I enjoy it. Hell, I get off on it just a little.” He smiled at that. “It’s just that, I really need to spend time with people who  _get it_  and know all about how it all works to make me feel less weird about getting support when I need it, you know?” 

“That makes sense. When something’s physically and emotionally taxing, you don’t want to isolate yourself and you don’t want to have to do the legwork of explaining your situation every time.”

“Yeah, that. Plus it’s nice to be able to just say ‘I had an off day’ and not have someone assume it’s  _because_  I do porn. Sometimes it’s just an off-day at the porn office. That’s really why it’s been nice having Benny around, having Charlie and Sammy knowing all about it — and you.”

Cas blushed a little, looking at his feet.

“But, today  _was_  kind of hard. Gabe is great and his company runs the tightest, best ship I’ve ever been involved with,” Dean continued. “Like, I’ve had jobs where I’ve safe-worded out and they’ve made me feel bad about it. Not in, like, repor-them-to-the=union ways, but like that I was wasting money and time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cas said. “They sound like douchebags.”

Dean cracked a smile again, the word sounding foreign coming out of Cas’ mouth.

“They were,” he laughed. “But, like, sometimes remembering those days gets me into a headspace that’s not too good —and I do really hate having to safeword and then have every one else’s days messed up by it?” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “So, today I did just feel a little bit like I messed up and couldn’t do the _one thing_  I’m supposed to be able to do without a freakout. No matter how many times Gabe tells me to prioritize myself, to be mindful of myself and not be afraid to ask for help, I just — it’s, I dunno, something I need to work on. And I just need to get myself back to my happy place and get back to work on Monday, you know?”

Cas reached out a hand onto Dean’s, giving a gentle squeeze.

“I know you don’t need to hear this, but I want you to because it might help: You did good today, Dean. You prevented a bigger issue — you getting injured: mind or body — by listening to your gut and alerting the rest of us. You let us do our jobs better because of it. It was hard for you, but you _did the right thing_.” 

Dean smiled at the affirmation, ducking his chin with the softest, tiniest of smiles and Cas felt a bit of relief. 

“Thanks Cas,” Dean laced his fingers with Cas’ for a second and gave a squeeze back. For a moment there was a warm, comfortable silence. And then Hercules farted himself awake.

* * *

They’d gotten through a third of “Temple of Doom” before Dean fell asleep. Cas was sort of surprised it hadn’t happened sooner — he looked  _exhausted_  after the scene this morning and his eyes looked heavy even as faces were being melted during Raiders. 

He was surprised he didn’t catch the gentle rhythms of his breathing out of the corner of his eye. Instead, Dean let out a small groan and stretched in his sleep — landing halfway in Cas’ lap in a way that was sure to leave a cramp in his neck later.  

Cas, trying his hardest not to wake him, adjusted his legs so Dean’s head could rest more comfortably and naturally on his thighs — it only half-occurred to him to maybe replace his legs with a softer, more neck-friendly pillow (but he decided there wasn’t too much harm in being a little indulgent tonight.) 

Dean slept through the credits of the movie, his face calm and seemingly 10 years younger. Cas didn’t feel any urgency to leave (and had no intention of letting Dean wake up alone), so instead he kept his hand trailing softly through his hair until he fell asleep too.


End file.
